


it's just me and you, until we've got nothing left

by writing_good_vibes



Series: loving you ain't easy [2]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Original Work
Genre: F/M, Minor Violence, Smoking, Unhealthy Relationships, a sequel of sorts, kind of a pre joker fic, okay so technically heath ledger is the inspiration, prose poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26978128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_good_vibes/pseuds/writing_good_vibes
Summary: it's always her.(original work)
Series: loving you ain't easy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962751
Kudos: 3





	it's just me and you, until we've got nothing left

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to my friend who suggested a sequel writing in his pov.
> 
> title is from a fall out boy song.
> 
> a sequel to my other work 'just when i've hardened my heart, he'll turn around and be so sweet'.

He knew she would know where to find him. She always knew, and she would be angry. Furious. Beautiful. 

He sat down on the sandstone steps of Central Library, they were still damp from the past rains that dowsed the city frequently. He shielded his lighter from the faint breeze and lit another cigarette, taking the first drag and letting the smoke just spill from his mouth for a moment. There was a part of him that sometimes thought about stopping these games that he liked to play with her, a part of him that always warned that one day he'd make her leave. Another part of him reassured that she'd never leave. That he would never leave her.

He saw her through the crowd, his eyes found hers amongst the sea of faceless faces, he'd always be able to find her, even poles apart. Her eyes burnt like the glowing end of his cigarette, burnt like hellfire, burnt like a torch in the long, long night.

A smile pulled at his lips, the absoluteness of her stride was brilliant. She was brilliant, a force to be reckoned with, a force to match his own.

"You!" she snarls, he loved the way her voice deepened slightly, became a primal sound that proved to him just how alive and wonderfully inevitable they were.

"My love," he smiled, waiting, always waiting, for her reaction, her passion, her undivided feeling. He flicked the cigarette butt away, the last dregs of smoke puffing from his nose, "Am I glad to see you."

She stopped before she reached him on the steps, her hand held out to keep him away. How he wanted to take her in his arms, feel the fury that rolled off of her, how it fuels the fire in his heart, how he never, ever wants them to be apart.

"Just don't! You're rotten."

He takes her hand. He can feel when she tries to pull away, but he just holds her tightly. Her hand is cold. "Don't be like that!"

He was a romantic at heart. He wanted to hold her tenderly, wanted her to hold him tightly. He pulls her close, pressed against him, he could feel the pounding of her heart. He started to sway, to a rhythm only he heard, slowly, gently does it, his arm around her waist.

She spins them harshly the other way, "I'm done with you."

"We're never done," he smiles.

They're terrible dancers, they don't get enough practice, he thinks. She follows his lead, she'll always follow him, he knows, if he asked her to, and he'd always _want_ her to. He smirks, not looking away from her burning eyes, they make it to the balustrade of the library steps. He presses against her, his hips lining up with hers, their hearts mirroring. He wants another cigarette.

He leans towards her, hesitating just for a second, "My love, my darling..."

He knows she's furious, knows she doesn't want to forgive him, knows that she'll say she never _will_ forgive him. That's alright by him, so long as she'll let him steal this moment, and the next, and the next, until they've had forever.

He leans towards her, and she closes the distance, her lips touching his and _O how alive it makes him feel._ He smiles, lets himself utterly enjoy it.

Quite unexpectedly, he feels himself stagger back, she's pushing him away and up against the marble, taking her place. His head reels as her knuckles connect with his jaw, the pain radiating through his cheek. He doesn't stop her, wouldn't stop her. The next punch draws blood, he can taste it sweetly on his tongue. She screams, "What have you done?!" with her fists against his chest.

What _wouldn't_ he do?

She's out of breath, panting, when she finally looks up at his face again. He smiles broadly at her, licking the taste of blood from his teeth but he knows it's still there. She's grimacing at the stream of it that is making its way down his chin.

She is beautiful.

The pain and her touch and the undeniable feeling of _want_ surged through him, settling in his stomach. He tilts his hips into hers, because it was her, always her. His hardness presses against her, until she realises, he can see the look in her eye as she realises and he laughs. He just has to laugh.

She recoils and, before he can stroke her darling face, he's on the ground. The knee to his groin made his own knees buckle. He feels the dampness of the stone beneath him soak through his jeans. He keeps his eyes on her, the shock in them. She tries to mask it, her brows furrowed with disgust, but he can see straight through her.

He laughs, clutching himself, partly to somewhat soothe the pain, and partly just because he _needs_ it.

She sneers, "You're disgusting. You like it."

"And don't you know it," he winked, his cheeks flushed with heat. He knew he should be embarrassed, but he wanted her so badly.

She looks away from him for a moment, looking at the ground and the shimmering reflection of the overcast sky. Her favourite type of weather.

"I hate you."

He was breathless, "I love you too."

He stood up, knees shaking, to stand before her.

It would always be her.


End file.
